


Rockin' Around The Christmas Trea

by mitzvahmelting



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: 2019 washington nationals, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate use of Christmas decorations, Light Bondage, M/M, Porn with Feelings, may 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21635083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitzvahmelting/pseuds/mitzvahmelting
Summary: It was Dozier's idea to have a team Christmas party in May. Andthismess, this was also Dozier's idea. Trea doesn't know why he agreed to it.
Relationships: Trea Turner/Brian Dozier, unrequited Trea Turner/Anthony Rendon
Comments: 13
Kudos: 24





	Rockin' Around The Christmas Trea

**Author's Note:**

> entirely written on my new toy, my alphasmart neo 2 :) please comment if you like it, it's the first thing i've written in ages

“Um,” Trea says.

“Hold still,” Doz replies. “I’m a few beers in, man, and my coordination’s a little shot.”

The ribbon is – well, there’s two ribbons, both satin and soft, snagged from what may have been Max Scherzer’s family Christmas decorations stash that Doz unceremoniously broke into at the start of this party. They needed a theme, he’d said. Christmas in July, he’d said. Even though it was still May, and, on top of that, no one was yet drunk enough to buy into his shenanigans. Now, it’s three hours later, and everyone is feeling far more festive. Especially Trea, who, against his better judgement, followed Doz into the corner of the basement with the promise of a very bad idea.

It really is a very bad idea.

“Not too tight,” Trea whispers sharply.

“Sorry,” Doz loosens it, “my bad. Don’t want to cut off your circulation down there, huh?” He winks.

“Shut up.”

“Don’t wanna make a lousy impression on–”

“Shut up!” Trea shifts uncomfortably. “Come on, man, it’s cold down here; hurry up.”

The red ribbon is an inch wide – it catches the light of the bulb hanging on loose wires from the unfinished ceiling of this back room. Doz winds it up under Trea’s arms and around his shoulders, across his chest, down one bicep… it’s a disorganized, meandering project, crisscrossing every which way. It was a pretty thick roll of ribbon to start with, and it looks like Doz is gonna keep wrapping it around Trea’s body until they run out.

The other ribbon is green satin, and only half an inch in width. This one, Dozier seems more deliberate with. He’s clearly got a vision for what he wants to do with the green one, he’s even cutting it into sections. “Bring your arms forward,” he says, “let me see – yeah,” and he wraps Trea’s wrists together, careful not to jostle the finger brace as he winds the green ribbon between and around Trea’s hands, He finishes with a decorative bow, a flourish that Dozier really shouldn’t be capable of at this level of inebriation. Well, Trea thinks, everyone’s better at _something_, drunk. Dozier’s secret talent must be giftwrapping.

“C’mere,” says Doz warmly. He’s got something about him that makes it easy to spend time with him, even if it means getting roped into doing something incredibly stupid. His hands are warm as he pulls Trea closer, into a kneeling position, “Let me reach around you – yeah, just like that.” The next section of green ribbon is wrapped gently around Trea’s throat, and then wound behind him and down his spine, and – it’s clear that Dozier is trying to be gentle, but Trea still makes a bit of a yelp when he feels thick fingers groping around at his ass. “Be careful!” he warns.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Dozier placates, playfully. “It’s not my first rodeo, bud, I know what I’m doing. You think I’d hurt you? ‘Course I’ll be gentle.”

The green ribbon splits Trea’s crack, and dips underneath to wrap a few times kinda tightly around his balls before slipping up and around his cock and then, weaving between the bars of the red ribbon, finally connecting back to the loop around his neck.

“Alright,” Trea says, squirming, “alright, this is enough, isn’t it? Let’s just – let’s get this over with.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, I’m almost done, I’ve just got to put the finishing touches on.” Dozier grins, and stands up to go over to the shelf of decorations again, fishing around the Christmas box. “You don’t wanna go to all this trouble and then half-ass it at the last second, do you?”

Trea’s trying not to think about the odd, kind of exciting sensation of the satin rubbing against his hole. “I dunno, Doz, I feel pretty whole-assed right now.”

“Oh, nonsense. This is all about getting the presentation right. Don’t you want Ant to like his present, sweetheart?”

God. Trea’s trying not to think about that.

“Found some!” announces Doz triumphantly. He pulls two golden bows from the box – the kind with a sticker on the bottom to adhere it to the present. He steps around Trea to kneel in front of him again, pulling the plastic seal off the adhesive of one of the bows. “This’ll just finish you up nice and pretty.”

The first bow, he affixes to the top of Trea’s head, like a crown. And as he’s doing so, he’s a little tender about it, leaning in close, tucking a loose lock of hair behind Trea’s ear. Dozier whispers, with his breath warm against Trea’s cheek, “that’s the bow that says, you know, the good old Folger’s _‘you’re my present this year’_ jam. That’s the bow for the sappy romantic part of all this.”

Trea hums, anxiously, just enough sound to move Doz along to whatever he’s going to do next.

For the second golden bow, Dozier reaches down gently to Trea’s trussed-up dick, and presses the bow loosely to the middle of the shaft. Trea hisses out a breath through his teeth – he can feel the little ridges of the staples on the bottom of the sticker. “A little bit of a sensitive place to pick, man,” Trea complains.

Doz snorts, “Oh, you’re fine, don’t be a baby.” Then his voice turns a little sultry, and his fingers are still cradling Trea’s dick, thumbing the side of it thoughtfully. “That bow, that’s the one that says_ ‘I wanna be Daddy’s special boy, look how hard I am, come unwrap your present…’_”

“Ugh,” Trea says, “you don’t have to be crude about it–” but then Dozier runs his thumb over the head and Trea makes a sound that he’s not proud of.

When Dozier lets go of Trea’s dick, he sucks the wetness off his finger and makes a pleased sound. Then he rocks back on his heels, and looks Trea up and down, admiring his work. “Sweetheart, your boyfriend’s gonna love it.”

And _oh_, fuck. That’s just like a bucket of ice water down Trea’s back. All the warm, hazy glow of being pleasantly buzzed and bound up and touched – gone in an instant.

He knew this was a bad idea.

“Stupid,” he says to himself, “this was a stupid idea.”

Brian’s face falls. “What?”

“It was a stupid idea!” Trea squirms, trying to find a way to grab the loose string from the bow around his wrists. “He’s not my boyfriend, he’s not my anything, I don’t know why I even agreed to this–”

“Woah, woah, hold on. Trea. What do you mean he’s not your–”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” He can’t maneuver his fingers around in the makeshift bondage to find a way to pull out the bow, so he starts trying to go at it with his toes, his tone getting more and more frustrated by the second. “We just hook up sometimes, and he leaves in the mornings, and I guess I just thought if maybe, this time, I try to show him he can like, do whatever he wants with me–”

Pity creeps into Dozier’s voice. “Oh, honey…”

“I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea, he would just, he would just say ‘cool’ and he would go with it and he wouldn’t fucking – wouldn’t fucking get it, or maybe he wouldn’t care, and – and I’d feel like shit in the morning –_ fuck_, Doz, how the fuck do I get out of this?!”

Instead of being helpful, Dozier puts his hands around Trea’s wrists, gently. “Trea, hold on a second,” he says, soft as can be, and Trea lets out a breath.

“What?” he snaps, halfheartedly.

Dozier ducks his head lower to catch Trea’s eyes, which had been fiercely trained on the floor. Now Trea looks at Brian’s face, the genuine concern and care, and the last vestige of anger and frustration slips out with a sigh. Dozier says, “I’m sorry I misunderstood your situation. I coulda sworn you two were seeing each other.”

“You and me both,” Trea bites out, even though he knows it’s unfair. Tony never led him on, not really. All these feelings… Trea was always the one that wanted more.

Stupid.

Doz sighs, sympathetically. Tucks another stray piece of hair behind Trea’s ear – the sensual gesture makes Trea flush a little, and so does the kind of low rumble in Dozier’s voice when he says, “I sure hate to see you all dressed up with nowhere to go. You really do look good enough to eat, sweetheart.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean it! I mean it…” Dozier runs his thumb, gentle, across Trea’s cheek. “Listen. I know this is a kind of unconventional way to make this proposition, but… if you wanted to, you could come home with me instead, tonight? I mean, I’m not gonna try to be your boyfriend or anything, but… I’ll make breakfast for you, and we can spend all morning, like, talking and stuff. Give you some of this love you’ve clearly been hurtin’ for, lately.”

Trea looks away. He kind of feels like his heart’s been flattened out on a glass slide and shoved under a microscope. Which is a weird way to feel when you’re in your teammate’s basement, naked, wrapped head to toe in Christmas ribbons.

“Oh, come on, Trea,” Doz croons, gently tugging on his wrists, “I _know_ you know how pretty of a picture you make right now. Let me make you feel as good as you look, huh?”

Trea squirms a little, scraping his ankle against the rug and trying not to smile. “How often does that line work for you?”

Dozier snickers a little bit. “Well, I dunno. You’d be the first. Never seen anyone look this cute. I’m honestly imagining you all wrapped up pretty under a Christmas tree right now.”

He’s really a nice guy, Dozier. And Trea should really be wary of niceness, because Tony was so nice that he couldn’t figure out how to tell Trea ‘no.’

But Dozier seems nice, _and_ he seems very determined to say yes, maybe yes-and-more, yes-and-we’ll-see-where-this-takes-us.

No one ever accused Trea of being risk-averse.

“I want scrambled eggs,” he mumbles.

“Hmm?”

“Tomorrow morning, I want scrambled eggs. And like, toast and orange juice and shit. Real breakfast, not just cereal.”

Dozier grins, a little lasciviously. He leans forward like he’s going to kiss Trea, but he hesitates just centimeters away, and Trea’s eyes flutter shut as a he waits for Dozier’s mouth. Dozier murmurs, “So, I can ravish you, now?”

“Yeah,” Trea says, his voice kind of wobbling in anticipation. “Go for it.”

Then Doz is kissing him. The technique of Dozier’s mouth is kind of thick and slow like his Mississippi accent, filling in every empty space with his tongue and the low, satisfied hum from the base of his chest. And Trea’s not sure where he expected Dozier’s hands to go first – maybe his dick, maybe make this all go dirty and fast like a teammate hookup should be – but instead Brian’s got a grip at Trea’s torso just under his armpits, thumbs pressing into that sensitive, thin place under Trea’s pecs. It feels like the edges of the ribbon are cutting into Trea’s skin, and then in the spaces between the ribbons Doz’s thumbs sneak through, to paw at Trea’s nipples, already pebbled in the cold of the basement.

And the thing is, Doz has a grip. He’s strong, he’s a strong dude, and as much as he’s got Trea gasping and squirming from the kissing and the pressure on his nipples, Doz has got Trea held in exactly the kind of way that he can pick Trea up off the floor entirely, so his knees can’t reach the rug for purchase. And it’s not like Dozier wants to move him anywhere; it’s just this primal, possessive satisfaction that Dozier seems to get from being able to lift Trea’s body and kiss him in the air like some sort of conquest.

_Golly_, it feels good to be wanted.

Doz sets him down again after a moment, and gasps against Trea’s mouth, “God, you sexy little fox. You… you’ve looked so miserable lately, with your finger and everything, curled up in the dugout with your hood up. Makes me so hard just thinking ‘bout all the things I wanna do to you, to spoil you and distract you.” 

He trails kisses from the corner of Trea’s jaw down the line of his throat, and he makes it all the way down to the dip of Trea’s clavicle before Trea manages to vocalize a response: “Watching… baseball… sucks.”

“Don’t I know it,” Doz growls his agreement. Then he manages to wrench himself away from Trea’s body long enough to pull his own shirt off, finally. Trea’s wrists are still wrapped together, but he reaches forward with both arms just to skate his unbandaged knuckles down the thick, lightly hairy curves of Dozier’s chest and stomach, hot to the touch and flushed with arousal. He smells good… the sweat and musk that Trea’s dick always associates with male virility.

Now free of his t-shirt, Doz launches forward again, and in a bit of a tussle Trea finds himself splayed out on his back on the rug, with Dozier sucking a hickey at the base of his sternum, strong fingers gripping just above Trea’s hipbones, and Trea feels like he’s going to _come_ just from this, the manhandling, the urgency of it, the way he can feel the tip of his hard-on brush against Dozier’s chest hair. If his balls weren’t clenched in a ribbon chokehold, he might have. As it is, the change in position has the green ribbon pinched and pinned against Trea’s shoulders, and the tugging on his balls is firmer, and the friction against his hole is firmer, and he squirms helplessly like an overturned turtle. “Come on,” he gasps, trying to whisper loud enough to be heard over the obscene sucking noises Dozier is making against his belly, “come on, Doz, _fuck_…”

Doz finally wraps a thick hand around Trea’s dick, including the big golden bow in his grasp, pressing the plastic sticker and the little staples hard against Trea’s skin and forcing a noise of aroused pain into Trea’s gasp. “So,” Doz says, “I get to open my present?”

Trea giggles a little bit, breathlessly. “You’ll ruin all your hard work.”

Doz kisses Trea’s mouth again, and whispers, “Don’t be silly. All the fun of a gift is _unwrapping_ it.”

So he unwraps Trea, slowly, carefully, with his mouth heavily involved in the process. Every section of green ribbon unwound from Trea’s dick is replaced with a kiss and suckle from Dozier’s mouth, slick and warm, gentle tugging. Trea is whining openly, shutting his eyes and letting himself focus on the sensation of it. When Dozier removes the bow, he rewards Trea by sucking the whole head of his cock into his own hot mouth, and it’s too much, too good, and Trea bucks his hips forward reflexively, so he hits the squishy back of Dozier’s throat and makes him cough and gag and pull off. Trea peeks open an eye to check on him, but Doz’s eyes are wide open and blown with arousal, pressing kisses to the base of Trea’s dick, sloppy after his gagging.

Hoarsely, Dozier remarks, “I gotta hold you down, don’t I?”

It makes Trea lean back and tilt his almost feral smirk up at the ceiling. “Guess so, big guy. Don’t – don’t let me get away.”

Dozier sucks two fingers wet with spit, then lifts Trea’s hips further into the air and plunges those fingers into Trea’s hole, deliberate and without hesitation, and the pleasure ripples like an electric shock up and down Trea’s abdomen. He wraps his ankles behind Brian’s neck, lifts his hips further into the air, “Fuck yes,” he says, “fuck – _fuck_ yes, finally…”

“You’re not gonna last long, are you, sweetheart?” Dozier teases.

“Shut up–” Trea shoots back, but then Dozier’s fingers find his spot, and he arches his back, hard, a trickle of precum oozing up against his belly. “Fuck!”

“Wish you were my Christmas present,” Dozier croons. “I could just wind you up and watch you go.”

“I was – _nnnnh_ – pretty wound up to begin with.”

“You sure were, pretty boy.” He presses sharply up against Trea’s prostate and gets another full-body spasm of pleasure for his trouble. “You want me to untie your cute little balls, now? Let you finally shoot?”

Trea huffs out a breath. He’s practically upside down, with his hips in the air and his shoulders and head down on the rug. Feels like all the blood that isn’t in his dick is here, pooling in his head, making his face hot and his vision swim. He cracks an eye open at Dozier, that nice-guy face, toothy smile turned shameless and smug and wanting. “I want you to fuck me,” Trea tells him, pointedly.

It’s like he kicked him in the gut. He watches with a kind of sick satisfaction as Doz’s mouth hangs open and he makes a sound of raw, unfiltered need. “Trea,” he says, “God you’re gonna kill me.”

“C’mon,” Trea whines, nudging Dozier’s shoulder with his heel.

Dozier pets a shaking, hot hand from Trea’s knee up his thigh and around his hip, plaintively. He says, then, “How about I make you come, now, and then I take you home with me? And then I’ll fuck your gorgeous ass into tomorrow, how does that sound?” He punctuates this with a kiss to the inside of Trea’s thigh, and then up and up to the curve of his hip, so Trea can just barely feel the whisper of Dozier’s hair against his shaft.

“_Nnnn_,” Trea whines, canting his hips up. “Fine. Chicken.”

“Chicken?” Dozier scoffs, playfully. “Now, hold on,” and Trea can feel Dozier’s fingers at the base of his cock, finding the knot, beginning to unwind the green, satin ribbon. “What exactly did you want me to do, here?”

It’s a rhetorical question, or it better be, because Trea is _far_ too focused on the pleasure of Doz’s hands on him to answer.

“You wanted me to fuck you, here?” Dozier presses his lips over the remaining rounds of green ribbon, licking a stripe up to the tip of Trea’s cock. “You wanted me to fuck you here in the basement, no lube, no condoms. Used, like a sexy little toy?”

Yeah. Yeah, seems like Doz knows. He’s got Trea’s number now. Can probably feel the way Trea’s whole body clenches thinking about it, being used, being a toy, being wrapped up like a goddamn Christmas present, like a beloved commodity. Trea’s too hazy with pleasure to even be embarrassed about it.

“You were thinking about me carrying you upstairs, weren’t you? Naked and wrapped in ribbons so everyone could see you, pretty little thing, just waiting for someone to take him home and treat him like something special.”

“_Brian_, please…” Trea chokes out. But instead of unwrapping, Dozier decides it’s time to suck Trea’s tight, sensitive balls into his mouth, lave his tongue over them, use his thick, plush lips to kiss and fondle. Trea makes a helpless, squeaky sound – he’s going to die, obviously. Like this, with his balls in Brian Dozier’s mouth, feeling so hot his insides are gonna explode.

Then Doz finally relents. He tucks his face against Trea’s hip, takes a deep breath of the scent, and finally starts unwinding the last bit of ribbon. And he says, “Wouldn’t you have made a pretty picture, sweetheart? Trussed up in Christmas ribbons, your dick wet on your tummy… and my cum, leaking out of your used asshole where everyone can see.”

The blood rushes back into Trea’s dick and balls suddenly, with the ribbon gone. He shouts with it, and he shouts again as Dozier pumps his dick with his hot hand, fast and hard until Trea’s coming, spilling all over his own body, his chest, and even the base of his throat. Hot and wet and loopy with pleasure, and Dozier kisses him, kisses him every spot the come fell, kisses him and licks it up and tells him how pretty he looks in so many words that Trea’s jumbled up, orgasm-happy brain can’t make sense of it.

It was fucking hot, so fucking hot, and Trea is giddy with it. Giddy and spent and… and usually he feels so shitty, after sex. Usually he feels so shitty, and needy, and like he knows he’s not gonna get what he wants once everyone comes. But he doesn’t feel shitty at all, right now, he feels _good_. He feels used and good and sexy and – “Holy _fuck_,” he says.

“Yeah,” Doz agrees, and he finds Trea’s mouth, and when they kiss, Trea can taste the salt of his own come, and another aftershock of pleasure ripples down his body. “Fuck,” Dozier says, “we gotta get you dressed, Trea. I need to take you home so bad.”

“Yeah,” Trea gets out, still smiling and not making a move to get up, yet. “Okay.”

Dozier kisses him again, and then kisses the top of his head. “You said scrambled eggs?”

“Hmm?”

“Scrambled eggs and toast and orange juice. I’ve got you, baby, I’ll make a shopping list.” Trea hums, peacefully. His whole body feels so warm. Dozier’s carefully unwinding all the rest of the ribbons from Trea’s body, freeing his wrists, making a messy pile of used ribbons on the floor. “I’ll throw these out, I guess,” he remarks. “We don’t want nobody using them for actual Christmas, huh.”

Snickering, Trea agrees, “That… would be bad.”

Then, Dozier does begin dressing Trea. At least, socks and underwear, and he kisses Trea’s softening dick before covering him with the boxers. Then he coaxes Trea into sitting up, and putting his shirt and pants on.

Dozier puts his own shirt back on, and as he does, he says, “Listen. I really am sorry, about things not working out how you hoped. I wasn’t trying to, like, lure you down here, to try to get with you myself. I wanted to help you do something sexy for… you know. I just thought it’d be a fun thing.”

“I know,” Trea tells him. He feels colder now, with just his own clothes on his body, instead of Dozier’s hands – he reaches out for Brian and snuggles close. Feels nice. Much nicer. “I think it worked out for the best, though,” Trea points out.

“You… you think so?” Doz asks.

Trea nods, tucking his face against Doz’s chest instead of speaking again. He’d like to not think about what could have, should have been. He’d like to stay in this hazy, satisfied state where he feels loved and warm and wanted. And something about Dozier’s attitude, in all this mess, makes it seem like Trea might have the opportunity to feel loved and warm and wanted for a while. For as long as he wants to.

Doz kisses the crown of his head. “God,” he says, “you’re such a sweet fucking thing.”

“Mmm,” Trea hums agreeably. “Hey, if we’re doing a round two, I want, like, a chocolate muffin or something, too. With the rest of my breakfast.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Trea mumbles. “It’s only fair.”

Doz kisses him again. “More than fair,” he promises. Then he ruffles Trea’s hair. “Alright, sweetheart,” he says, “get up. Let’s get going. The night is young. Lot’s of work to do.”

Trea grins, giddy and satisfied, and they get up to head back up the stairs to the party, and make their excuses to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> please comment if you liked it :)


End file.
